


Acidic

by plishooksky (reiirae)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Gore, Life changing injuries, acid attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiirae/pseuds/plishooksky
Summary: He was only sixteen, the news report said, when a bottle of acid smashed in his face and permanently marred his once pretty features.





	Acidic

He was only sixteen, the news report said, when a bottle of acid smashed in his face and permanently marred his once pretty features.

The day was blazed into his memory permanently - as if the ugly scars weren’t already a strong enough reminder alone. The vision in his left eye was weakened, and doctors suspected by the time he turned twenty he’d be severely impaired in that eye. The once smooth, pale skin was covered in lumps and bumps, an angry red-brown shade replacing the regular colouration. In some places, the flesh had completely melted away and failed to heal back correctly, leaving him with large, ugly welts. The acid had destroyed the entire right side of his lips, and although plastic surgeons were going to attempt to recreate it, the surgery wasn’t more months, and even then the success rate was low. 

The teenager pulled his tangled blonde hair off his face, lightly grazing his fingertips across the mess of lumpy flesh where his cheekbone is. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and even the best makeup in the world did little to cover up the horrendous disfigurement. He felt his fist clench instinctively, and yet there was nothing he could do. Nobody had yet found his attacker. Nobody could be charged for their crime, and the damage they’d done to his budding career.

It had been a dark night - it wasn’t even that late, but winter nights were long and cold in Russia. Considering the time, the boy had been sure it would be safe to take the backroad from the skating rink to his small apartment; the path was not often frequented anyway.

And so he had set off, paying little attention his surroundings and simply wishing to get out of the icy air as quickly as possible. His lack of attention was one thing he would never forgive himself for - this situation was completely avoidable if he hadn’t been so distant. He didn’t see a man emerge from the shadows until he was practically face-to-face with him, and then it was all too late.

He had widened his eyes in shock, but quickly closed them at the feeling of liquid hitting his face, small glass shards digging in and sending rivulets of crimson streaming down his face. Momentarily, he assumed it was just water, the pain caused entirely by the shattered glass, and so prepared to lash out at the male, but then the burning set in. The longer it was on his skin, the more agonising the burning became. He could feel it infiltrating through the pores in his skin, leaking into the corners of his mouth and eyes no matter how tightly he shut them. The scent of sulfur and burning flesh flooded his nose and caused him to gag violently, stumbling backwards and falling to the ground.

He heard footsteps as the man left, and he attempted to get back to his feet and follow, but realised rapidly there was little use in that. Even if he did catch the man up, he was powerless. And so he just laid there, praying some kindred soul happened upon him before he died in the middle of some dingy alley. 

The feeling of tears against the damaged flesh jerked him back to reality, and he opened his eyes again. It was fine. He was safe. Really, he was. The flashbacks were so painful, though - the vivid reality of them was gut-wrenching. He wondered if the neighbours ever questioned his screaming, his crying, his shouting. Probably not. They’d gotten used to his angry temperament.

It wasn’t until his eyes landed on the newspaper that lay untouched on his desk that he fully began to despair again. Ever since the incident was reported, newspapers had been desperately to reach him, his coaches, his rinkmates, anyone who knew anything about the story - and now it had made headlines. But not the headlines he wanted to read.

“Will Yuri Plisetsky ever skate again after life-changing acid attack?”


End file.
